Some years ago I had the fortune to photograph and interview James Ellroy in Seattle for a Vancouver-based literary magazine. Ellroy told me that in some mornings he would open his ongoing manuscript and perhaps add or remove a comma here or there. He would then close his computer. He told me, “As long as you do something every day, even that small, it is still writing.”

For most of March I was either at a high school reunion at St. Ed’s in Austin, Texas or at a spring break trip to Buenos Aires with my wife Rosemary and younger granddaughter Lauren, 14.

Because of travel preparations and other stuff I did not blog for the whole month. Now that I am back I find myself postponing from one day to the next while remembering Ellroy.

There is little content in this “essay” but it is a beginning.

Of sorts.